Chapter 15

As the strains of the quadrille drifted faintly from the grand assembly room, Mr. Bennet found himself ensconced in the quieter retreat of the smoking lounge, a glass of port warming his hand. Opposite him, Mr. Darcy senior exhaled a leisurely plume of tobacco smoke, the flickering glow of the hearth casting a subtle animation upon his features.

"It appears the assembly thrives with chatter and opportunity," Mr. Bennet said, a wry smile playing at his lips. "And the matchmaking efforts of certain matrons surpass even the musicians in vigour. One might almost believe the universe itself conspires in these endeavours—chaos adorned in ribbons, yielding order by way of a handsome dowry."

Mr. Darcy senior chuckled. "Indeed. The art of the hostess is a formidable one. My sister-in-law, Lady Catherine, herself would commend such efficiency."

Mr. Bennet arched a brow, his expression both inquisitive and amused. "A woman of singular determination, if ever there was one. Pray, what are her latest schemes? I trust they involve no less zeal than the last occasion her name graced our correspondence."

Mr. Darcy swirled his port thoughtfully. "Catherine remains steadfast in her pursuits. She has, at long last, abandoned her insistence on uniting Fitzwilliam and Anne—perhaps in deference to my repeated objections."

"Ah," Bennet interjected with a grin, "a testament to your fortitude, George. Few can claim to have withstood Lady Catherine's resolve unscathed."

Darcy inclined his head, his expression suggesting both agreement and weariness. "Yes, she has turned her energies—and, I suspect, no small portion of her finances—toward a novel strategy. She has sought the counsel of a variety of so-called 'psyches', believing their insights might illuminate the path to securing a suitably titled match for Anne."

Bennet's eyes twinkled with irrepressible mirth. "A fascinating diversion. I might have advised her to engage a governess or a master to strengthen Anne's education, but no doubt the wisdom of the stars presented a more seductive investment."

Darcy's lips twitched. "Yes. My niece Anne, for her part, remains acquiescent, though I fear her spirit is ill-prepared for the sort of match her mother envisions. Catherine has always favoured appearances over substance."

Bennet leaned back in his chair, the firelight casting playful shadows across his face. "Then let us hope the stars align in Miss de Bourgh's favour. It is a curious thing—how we parents shape our children's futures according to our own peculiar logic, while they, in turn, must navigate the course we lay. Fortunate it is for your son to enjoy the liberty of choice."

Darcy's gaze softened, and he nodded. "Freedom, tempered with duty, Thomas. I trust Fitzwilliam will choose wisely, yet I shall not impose my will upon him. Matters of the heart must remain his own."

"And how does he fare? From what I gather, he possesses his father's steadiness—though perhaps not his proclivity for joviality."

Darcy tipped his cigar slightly. "Fitzwilliam bears the Darcy legacy with pride. I confess I have often urged him to temper his exactitude with a measure of levity. Perhaps he merely awaits a reason to do so."

"Ah," Bennet said with a knowing smile. "Few things sharpen the mind and temper the soul like matrimony. Should he ever seek inspiration, Mrs. Bennet would sure furnish him with an education in liveliness."

Darcy's lips quirked upward. "Of that, I have little doubt." He sipped his port, his expression softening into one of quiet contemplation. "Speaking of inspiration, I had occasion to observe Fitzwilliam earlier this evening. He appeared rather engaged in the dance—particularly with Miss Elizabeth."

Mr. Bennet's brow lifted, his port glass pausing midway to his lips. "Lizzy? She is but eighteen, and her attention is more often occupied with her apothecary pursuits and the demands of Longbourn than with frivolities. She is so clever that most of the local boys find themselves quite discomposed by her presence." He chuckled lightly. "I confess I have given little thought to her prospects—at least, not yet."

Darcy senior smiled. "Cleverness can be a formidable trait, no doubt, yet it need not daunt all. Fitzwilliam, I believe, finds it rather compelling."

Bennet studied the other gentleman with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. "And should such a match come to pass? A Bennet of Longbourn allied with the house of Darcy—would you look kindly upon such a union?"

Darcy senior's gaze grew pensive, his deep voice steady but reflective. "As I have said, I shall not impose my will upon Fitzwilliam in matters of the heart. But should he choose wisely, guided by love and respect, I would welcome whomever he holds dear. From what I glimpsed this evening, Lizzy has grown to be a interesting young woman. She carries herself with wit, vitality, and a sense of duty remarkable in one so young. It is evident she takes her responsibilities—whether to her family or her pursuits—most seriously, and such qualities ought not to be undervalued. They are rare enough, even among those of good breeding. If such a union should contribute to my son's happiness, I would harbour no objection."

Bennet shook his head with an amused smile. "Wit, vitality, and responsibility! A curious notion indeed. Yet I have no doubt Lizzy would rise to any occasion she deemed worthy of her efforts—though I shudder to think what Mrs. Bennet might say upon hearing your observations. She would have the banns called before sunrise."

Darcy chuckled again. "Then perhaps we ought to keep this conversation within the sanctuary of the lounge."

Bennet swirled the remnants of his port, a sardonic smile tugging at his lips. "I should clarify, George, when I spoke of Mrs. Bennet hastening to call the banns, I referred to the Mrs. Bennet of old—a nervous woman whose ambition rivalled Lady Catherine's, albeit with somewhat less precision. The Mrs. Bennet of today, however, has been tempered by the influence of Lady Anne's friendship. These days, she is as likely to be found balancing the household accounts as she is drilling our daughters in decorum and conversation. A remarkable transformation, would you not agree? I suspect even Lady Catherine might take note—were she ever to divert her gaze from the heavens and her newfound faith in celestial wisdom."

Darcy raised an eyebrow. "Your household has undergone an admirable evolution, Thomas. My wife, too, has wielded her influence, though her health now dictates that her exertions be sparing. The southern air, I believe, has done her good. My wife has been the quiet strength of Pemberley, yet I suspect the time has come for her to relinquish its burdens and take her well-earned rest."

"Sound reasoning," Bennet interjected, his tone laced with wry understanding. "It is a rare man who perceives when his wife has earned the right to sit back and permit the world to turn without her constant intervention. I commend you, George. Most of us reach such revelations only when our wives are kind enough to suggest them—firmly."

Darcy nodded before continuing. "Fitzwilliam is yet young, but should he take a wife, I am much inclined to leave Pemberley in his care for the greater part of the year. Lady Anne and I might retire elsewhere—Ramsgate, perhaps, or I am told Netherfield is presently available. A quieter retreat may prove of benefit to us both."

"Ah, Netherfield," Bennet murmured, reclining with the air of a man savouring an inside jest. "You would be most welcome here, George. Meryton is naught but a paradise—if one can overlook the occasional squall of village gossip. Perhaps less a tempest than what one might endure in Derbyshire, but invigorating all the same. After all, what is society but a garden of personalities, where some bloom, some wither, and all are nourished by the rich soil of scandal?"

Darcy inclined his head. "It is a thought worth considering. There is much to be said for remaining within reach of old friends and new acquaintances alike."

Bennet lifted his glass in a wry salute. "To proximity, then. Lady Anne must prepare herself for the peculiarities of Hertfordshire society. We are a rough-hewn set, but not without our charms—if one has the patience to dig them up."

Darcy senior's lips quirked upward. "Sage advice. I daresay Hertfordshire might prove every bit as diverting as Derbyshire." He, having set aside his port, leaned forward with an air of mild interest. "Speaking of Hertfordshire's charms, I understand that Lizzy has been of service to Fitzwilliam—providing her expertise in remedies, no less."

Bennet arched a brow. "What did she do?"

"He sought her counsel regarding shyness!"

Bennet laughed out loud. "For himself? Amusing! Lizzy has a knack for concocting remedies, both for ailments of the body and the spirit."

"No, it was for Georgiana" Darcy senior said. "She is of an age with your Lizzy but of a far more retiring disposition. Sweet-tempered, but prone to silence where she ought to speak. Fitzwilliam, the devoted brother, believes Lizzy's wisdom might supply a cure. She prescribes a bit of courage and a lot of practice! I am eager to see if her advice will borne fruit."

Bennet gave a dry chuckle. "If anyone could stir your daughter from her shell, it would be Lizzy. It is a strange thing to imagine my little Lizzy dispensing counsel to a Darcy. Perhaps she should take up philosophy next—though heaven preserve us should she set her sights on governing Parliament."

Darcy senior nodded. "And your other daughters? Miss Jane has grown to be a classic beauty. I heard she was much admired for her grace. Is she still the fairest flower of Longbourn?"

Bennet's expression softened, though humour still glinted in his eyes. "Jane remains graceful, not so trusting as she once was. Life tempers us all. She is kind, but not blind—a balance which pleases her mother and I exceedingly, given her aspirations."

"And Miss Mary?" Darcy senior inquired.

"My Mary," Bennet said, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Deep in her theological studies of late. I expect it will not be long before she declares Milton insufficiently pious and insists I build her a church where she might preside as her own clergy. One wonders if the future shall make room for female preachers—it would save her the trouble of toppling the establishment."

Darcy's laughter was immense. "A resolute mind is never without ambition. Perhaps Miss Mary will be at the vanguard of such a revolution."

Bennet raised his glass, mischief dancing in his eyes. "Indeed. And should that day come, I trust she will acknowledge her father as the long-suffering architect of her ecclesiastical empire."

The door creaked open then, admitting two gentlemen whose contrasting airs made for a striking tableau. George Wickham, all charm softened by years into a warmth of manner, inclined his head in greeting. At his side, Colonel Fitzwilliam, the very picture of seasoned military ease, settled into a chair by the hearth with a curt nod.

"Wickham," Bennet began, his tone light with curiosity, "how fares the world of jewels and demanding patrons? I trust your establishment in Russell Square has kept you well entertained—if not enriched."

Wickham's eyes bright with genuine pride. "Most assuredly, sir. Trade has been most favourable, and my patrons—well, they never fail to provide a study in caprice and delight. Only last week, I had the pleasure of crafting an engagement ring for a viscount's daughter—a young lady of singular preferences, whose reverence for emeralds bordered on the spiritual."

"Emeralds?" Bennet mused with a smirk, swirling his port. "Mrs. Bennet might find herself similarly moved by such a gem. Our wedding anniversary approaches, and I find myself pondering whether a bauble might buy me a measure of reprieve from her gentle nagging."

Wickham smiled warmly. "It would be my honour to assist, Mr. Bennet. Emeralds, you say? A pendant, perhaps, or a brooch to complement her radiance?"

Colonel Fitzwilliam let out a dry chuckle. "It is a marvel how married men think. Jewellery, of course, is eternal, not like the fickleness of women. But talking about emeralds and jewels puts me in mind of Hertfordshire's history with iron ore. I heard the Romans mined here. Even in antiquity, men sought to dig up the land for baubles."

Bennet's eyes gleamed with mischief as he leaned in. "Ah, the Romans—builders of roads, keepers of legions, and, one suspects, inveterate gamblers. One wonders if they too found themselves at odds with the local rabbits whilst tilling these fields. I daresay those cunning creatures would have outwitted even Roman engineers."

A flicker of amusement crossed the Colonel's face. "Quite possible. Speaking of which, your daughter informs me that Stokes's estate harbours a fine warren of rabbits. No doubt they have found sanctuary in the quieter corners of his land."

Bennet tilted his head in mock gravity. "The rabbits of Stokes! Wily creatures, to be sure—but more loyal than some of the estate's human occupants. One might say a man is measured by how well he manages his domain, and by that account, Stokes's rabbits fare rather better than some of his friendships."

Darcy senior, smiling faintly, interjected. "If I recall, you once likened the evasive manoeuvres of the rabbits at Stokes's estate to the strategies of a seasoned hostess—forever a step ahead of pursuit."

"Indeed," Bennet conceded with a smirk. "But the motives of the rabbits are infinitely more pure. And his estate is known by its most silent inhabitants."

Richard said, intending on drawing more information about Stokes from Bennet. "A silent estate can have its merits, I suppose. And its mysteries, perhaps."

"Undoubtedly," Bennet nodded. "But if you find yourself tempted to inspect Stokes's rabbits more closely, do take care. They have a talent for vanishing just as one grows fond of them."

Colonel Fitzwilliam leaned forward slightly. "So does the iron ore deposits, dating back to Roman times, still bear any significance? I heard some say the remnants of those old workings are scattered across a few estates, though I've yet to lay eyes on them myself."

Bennet, catching the subtle shift in the Colonel's tone, narrowed his eyes with suspicion. "A curious interest for a man supposedly here to enjoy the hospitality of the Darcys. Idle speculation, or something more… industrious?"

The Colonel chuckled. "Oh, entirely idle, I assure you. But I've always admired a bit of well-placed industry."

Wickham spoke up smoothly. "If it is Stokes's estate that piques your interest, Richard, you may find more than iron ore worth considering. His dealings extend beyond local borders. The Bingley family, for instance, are currently staying on his estate. Mr. Bingley senior has considerable commercial influence in London, and you know my own father has been his secretary these past few years."

"The Bingleys, an interesting family!" Darcy Senior said with raised eyebrows. "We hosted the mother and daughter for one night. The heavens opened up unexpectedly."

Bennet chuckled. "Then the family's association with Stokes does not surprise me. Perhaps Mr. Bingley is involved with Stokes's supply of yarrow."

"Yarrow?" Darcy senior interjected, his brow furrowing in mild curiosity.

Bennet nodded, swirling his glass idly. "He cultivates it in great quantities and sends it off to London through a middleman. I suspect the Romans would approve of its industrious application. Perhaps it is yarrow, not iron, that holds the true legacy of Hertfordshire."

The Colonel's gaze sharpened, though his expression remained unreadable. "Yarrow? A curious enterprise indeed for a man whose estate seems more suited to rabbits than Roman ambitions."

"Indeed," Bennet said with a knowing grin. "Let us not diminish the resourcefulness of our local gentry. Even the most unassuming of estates can hide a wealth of surprises—be it ore, herb, or rabbit."

Darcy senior inclined his head toward the Colonel. "It seems you may have more to learn in Hertfordshire than you anticipated, Richard. I hope this visit remains as invigorating as Mr. Bennet's wit suggests."

The Colonel raised his glass in acknowledgment. "To Hertfordshire, then. A county of unexpected treasures."

Meanwhile, back in the main room of the assembly, Mrs. Bingley cast a watchful eye over the proceedings. Unaware—or perhaps unconcerned—of his wife's growing impatience, Henry Bingley stood engaged in a circle of gentlemen. Mrs. Bingley made her way toward him, her expression betraying just the faintest flicker of annoyance. Placing a hand gently on his elbow, she murmured, "Henry, we must speak. Now."

Henry allowed himself to be led to a quiet alcove, where the noise of the assembly softened into a muted hum. "What is it, Daisy?" His tone was smooth, but there was an undercurrent of ice beneath it.

"Caroline tells me that Elizabeth Bennet was speaking of the dance card—the very one your contact gave me for you," she said in a hushed but urgent voice. "What if she begins to pry further? That girl is far too perceptive."

Henry's gaze flicked toward the ballroom, his expression betraying neither concern nor surprise. "Then we'll cut our visit to Stokes's estate short. Another week, no more. It's better to leave now than to stay and invite further scrutiny."

Daisy's lips thinned, her voice sharpening. "Another week? Henry, that is hardly sufficient time for Caroline. You know how important this is—she's finally had the opportunity to meet Fitzwilliam Darcy. If we leave too soon, she'll be unable to solidify her attachment to him."

Henry's patience wore thinner by the second. "If Caroline is incapable of securing young Darcy's attention within the next seven days, then she was never going to secure it at all." His voice was cool, dismissive. "A week is generous. Beyond that, I won't risk complications."

"And Charles?" Daisy pressed, her gaze conveyed her frustration. "He's taken quite an interest in Jane Bennet."

Henry's expression darkened. "Charles has no business wasting his time on a minor gentleman's daughter, no matter how pretty she is. He should be focused on prospects that benefit the family—not childish infatuations."

Daisy let out a dry, humourless laugh. "Charles's charm is a commodity, same as any investment. If he chooses to amuse himself with Jane Bennet, who are we to stand in his way?" Her voice dropped slightly, a sharp edge of amusement creeping in. "Though if he is fool enough to think her worth more than a dalliance, I will handle the matter myself."

Henry's jaw tightened, but he said no more. Straightening his coat, he cast a glance toward the room. "A mistress or a passing amusement is one thing. Marriage is another. Ensure Charles understands that distinction."

Daisy inclined her head, offering a brittle smile. "Of course. But mind you—rushing the children may cost us. I will not have Caroline's chances squandered because you're too eager to flee."

With that, she turned and swept back into the main room, and put on a cheerful smile. She made her way to where Mr. Stokes stood in quiet contemplation.

"Mr. Stokes," she began, her tone honeyed yet purposeful, "I was just saying to my husband what a splendid assembly it is. Truly, Hertfordshire boasts its own unique delights. Might I suggest another—perhaps a hunt for the gentlemen? I imagine an excursion through your beautiful grounds would be quite invigorating."

Mr. Stokes tilted his head, intrigued. "Hmm. It has been some time since I last arranged such a gathering." He swirled his wine thoughtfully. "But these things require careful preparation, good hounds, and of course, willing sportsmen. Not every guest enjoys a hard ride before breakfast."

Mrs. Bingley let out a light laugh. "I suspect your invitation would stir their enthusiasm. Gentlemen do love an opportunity to test their mettle. And from what I've seen of your estate, I cannot think of finer grounds for such a pursuit."

Mr. Stokes stroked his chin. "The season is right for it. The question is whether we have the numbers—or if the gentlemen are of a mind to take up the chase."

Mrs. Bingley arched a brow. "I should think the Darcys, Wickhams, and Colonel Fitzwilliam would be eager enough. With a little persuasion, perhaps they could even be convinced to stay the night—an early start would make all the difference, after all."

Mr. Stokes let out a chuckle. "Not to forget my neighbours Bennet, Long, and Lucas. You argue well, Mrs. Bingley. Very well, I'll have my steward see to the preparations."

Daisy curtsied and moved away, thinking of reminding Henry to fix the date with Mr. Stokes. She then strolled around the room, finally finding Caroline with a pinched look by the refreshment tables.

"I've done well to encourage Mr. Stokes to arrange a hunt, hopefully with the gentlemen staying the night at his estate," Daisy whispered, leaning in close. "It's time to hasten your efforts, Caroline. If you wish to secure young Darcy, you must act now. Your father said we would only stay for one more week. Subtlety is all well and good, but a compromise will ensure the matter is settled quickly. This hunt provides the perfect opportunity."

Caroline's lips curled in delight and her eyes lit. With a sharp nod, Caroline adjusted her expression back to its practiced air of superiority and returned to the crowd.

Unbeknownst to Mr. and Mrs. Bingley earlier, behind a pair of heavy curtains, Lydia and Kitty Bennet crouched in the midst of their game of hide-and-seek.

"Did you hear that, Kitty?" Lydia hissed fiercely. "That pompous and old Mr. Bingley—he dares to say our Jane isn't good enough for their Charles? As if a thousand Caroline Bingleys could measure up to our sister! And what does dalliance mean? Or mistress?"

Kitty pressed a finger to her lips. "Lydia, hush! If we're caught, Mama will be furious. And I don't know what those words mean, but I don't like the sound of them."

Lydia scowled. "It's outrageous. And they're scheming about Fitzwilliam! He shouldn't be saddled with that horrid Orange Bingley!" She stopped abruptly, her mischievous grin returning. "We simply must tell Jane and Lizzy. They'll know exactly what to do."

Kitty hesitated, but curiosity won out. "Well… if we must."

And with that, they slipped away, their game forgotten in favour of far more pressing matter.

A.N. Apologies, no Darcy and Elizabeth in this chapter! Instead, how did you enjoy the strange discussion on children, iron, yarrow, rabbits, dalliances, and mistresses?